


Hidden

by Elamae



Category: Endeavour (TV)
Genre: Angst, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-26
Updated: 2016-01-14
Packaged: 2018-01-20 21:31:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1526495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elamae/pseuds/Elamae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Morse sees something he never thought he'd see and has to re think his opinion of the other man whilst coming to terms with his own feelings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> 1) This was thought of before the airing of S2 Ep4 but I've kept going with it as I can't bring myself to tackle a post Neverland piece yet. However as we now have this background to the character this will be addressed in this fic further in. 
> 
> 2) Apologies as I haven't really set the scene much at the beginning but this is what my brain gave me, sorry! Not completely happy with it but it's a start and there may be flash backs or more explanations in later chapters.
> 
> 3) This will be a slash piece (I don't think I can write anything else :o) ) but I'm guessing it will be more angsty than I had originally envisioned and may change how I had envisioned this going in terms of character development. As I tend to lean more to the angst this shouldn't be a problem.
> 
> 4) Hmm, I don't normally post anything anywhere until I've finished or about to finish as I am terrible at completing stuff. But I thought I'd take a chance and see if this would actually get me more motivated. However, don't say I didn't warn you! 
> 
> 5) Also unbetad so if you spot any typos or other errors please let me know and I will correct.

"So, you doing anything later then?"

Jakes turned his head at the quiet voice from the doorway. It was Carl, the deputy manager, who he'd spoken to earlier. 

"Sorry?"

"Only if you say no." Carl smiled gently. 

Jakes couldn't help his eyebrows rising slightly, the start of an incredulous look crossing his face.

"Come on sweetie, taking a bit of a risk here but thought you were cute enough to risk it." Carl pouted slightly. "I'm going to be so disappointed if I end up face first against that wall." He paused and added. "Well, only if there are handcuffs and arresting involved." He paused again before a slow wicked smile crossed his face. "Well, maybe not even then."

Jakes couldn't help but let out a burst of quiet laughter. "Sorry, no handcuffs, mate."

"No date, either then?"

Jakes shook his head, a small smile still resting on his lips.

"Not your type then?" Carl sounded disappointed but resigned.

Jakes shook his head gently. "Sorry," he said softly. 

"So what is your type then?" Carl asked. He narrowed his eyes and asked, voice slightly softer, "I didn't read you completely wrong, did I?" 

Jakes paused, fingers flicking his cigarette nervously.

"Look, I'm not likely to dob you in am I? Wouldn't do that to someone. Hardly likely to believe a queer old queen like me anyway are they?" he chuckled. "Just, it's nice to know there are people out there who, well...." 

Jakes paused for another moment, the silence in the alleyway sounding louder than any noise, before gently shaking his head. "No, you didn't read me wrong," he said, voice barely more than a whisper.

Carl smiled. "Phew," he breathed. "Reputation was on the line there." He narrowed his eyes, a thoughtful gaze coming across them."Got your eye on someone haven't you?" he asked.

Jakes eyes widened slightly and started to shake his head, but it had been enough.

"Oh, you poor boy," Carl commiserated softly. Then... "Straight one?"

Jakes licked his lips and averted his gaze, reaching into his pocket for another cigarette.

"We have a back room," Carl started before suddenly snorting, "which is not as sordid as it sounds," he said with a grin. He tapped his own cigarette against the doorframe." It's a sanctuary. No names, no jobs, no titles, just....people. If you ever want to just go somewhere to relax, talk, commiserate; well, you'd be welcome." 

Jakes nodded his head. "Thanks," he said sincerely, before his voice raised to a more normal level. "Look, I'd better get off. Keep an eye out for Dooley won't you? Let us know if you do see him around the club."

Carl stood up a bit straighter and nodded, his own body posture echoing the change in conversation. "Sure. I don't want that sort of trouble round here. The minute he shows his squirrelly little face I'll smack it." He caught Jakes eyes and added, "but not before I call you," he grinned. 

Jakes smirked back. "I'll see you around."

~~**~~

 

Carl let out a small sigh as Jakes walked away. The nice ones were always straight or after someone else he mused ruefully. Pity, he thought. Nice one that. He wondered who it was who had caught the other man's eye and stolen him away before Carl had even known he was there to be stolen. He rolled his eyes dramatically. The cute policeman hadn't actually said he was smitten on someone but he could read it in the other man's eyes, in his reaction. Obviously it was.

He turned to go back inside when movement caught the corner of his eye. Peering up the alleyway he caught sight of a young man half hidden behind the corner drain pipe. His blue eyes were wide and startled, the proverbial deer in the headlights. Their gazes met briefly before the younger man jerked back, turned and disappeared onto the street.

"Oh..." he said, dread filling him, as he realised that it must have been one of the policeman's colleagues still handing around. 'Bugger, bugger, bugger...' he thought to himself. That was not good. He briefly wondered how quickly he could get hold of Sgt Jakes, give him the heads up. 

His brain then replayed and supplied him with what he'd seen on the other man's face and he paused. Shock, yes; surprise, yes; but no disgust, no anger, no repulsion. In fact what had been on his face had been something that Carl couldn't quite place but which...

"Oh," he said again, this time more thoughtful tone to his voice, eyes flickering back to the direction Jakes had disappeared in.

~~**~~

 

As Jakes walked away he couldn't help the small smile that tugged at his lips. Or the quick, instinctual look around to make sure that he was indeed still alone.

It wasn't the first time he'd been flirted with whilst on the job, but at least Carl had waited until they were alone before he'd approached him. That was brains. He'd seen men who'd not had the common sense they were born with, try and come onto him or indeed someone else, in the middle of a room full of policemen. Instead of being able to whack some better survival instincts in them he'd had to either watch them get seriously whacked by his neanderthal colleagues or deliver a slightly less serious but still effective message himself so that neither his reputation or their lives, or indeed limbs, were damaged. 

Much.

It was a pity that Carl wasn't his type. Completely the opposite in fact, but even if he had been, he wasn't sure he could have brought himself to start anything. His mind - and heart if he'd had enough whiskey when you asked him - was too far gone. 

Jesus, he was a fool. Like someone of the likes of *him* would be interested, even if he wasn't as straight as a dye. Which of course he was. He'd seen him with that personal secretary that time during the British Imperial case and he'd seen him around Joan Thursday. Or should that be, Joan Thursday around him?

And he knew, or suspected that there was someone in his life now. He'd seen the smiles on the wya into and out of work, the extra way he held himself. Seen the casual perusal of the papers for the cinema listings, the extra bits of shopping he'd has stashed by his desk. Not that he was looking of course. But he was a detective and it was his job to observe. To notice.

He ran a hand through his hair ruffling the normally perfect strands. It was fruitless, pointless and only destined to land him in heartbreak. He's only consolation to himself, such as it was, was that he was far too gone now for it to make any difference. His heart would end up smashed on the floor at some point now, no matter what happened or when. It was inevitable. 

He thought about him, dreamt about him, watched him - when he thought he could get away with it - and fantasised about him.

Them.

Together.

Yeah, he was fucked.

All he could do now was control the fallout as much as he could, prepare for the fateful day when all went to shit and pray that no one ever found out the actual truth . 

Especially Morse.

~~**~~

 

Morse was in shock.

His mind was at the same time blank and swirling with a hundred different thoughts and it was both familiar and confusing at the same time. He was used to his head shooting off into a myriad of directions, random thoughts and epiphanies accosting him at varied times, completely aware that his brain worked in a strange and unfamiliar way to the rest of the world. His mind would be at it's most comfortable when constantly chewing away at a problem. He liked problems. He liked challenges.

But here now, the thoughts that were bulging through his mind were not challenges of the normal description, although they could be described as challenges. They were thoughts that were strange and unfamiliar and...uncomfortable. 

Because they were thoughts he never thought he'd have. Well, not his conscious brain anyway. Dig deep enough and with enough whiskey, he knew that what was sending him currently off into the dizzying heights of sexual confusion was something he'd known for a long time but had successfully, until now, buried with all the weight of a small tank.

Jesus. 

He wasn't religious but somehow that epithet satisfyingly covered the intensity of his reaction.

And not just mental he mused, looking down at this hands as they unlocked the front door to his bed-sit. The second attempt got the door open and he stumbled across the threshold, throwing his coat onto the hook - miraculously it stayed on - and headed straight to the bottle of scotch on the top mantle shelf. 

None of what he expected to see in that alleyway had happened. In his mind, the reality of the situation had been Jakes being flirted with by a _very obviously queer man_ wearing make-up with suggestive comments, Jakes taking great offence, Jakes lashing out with fist and probably foot, scraping said queer man up the wall and then finishing up with a couple of painful jabs to the kidneys. Oh and a threatened promise to rearrange his internal organs if he ever did that again, as well as an all expenses paid trip down to the local cells.

What had actually happened - in a complete role reversal and seemed to be the more dreamlike sequence of the two variations - was, Jakes being flirted with by a _very obviously queer man_ wearing makeup with suggestive comments, Jakes smiling back, Jakes not exactly flirting back but offering smiles and warmth and eye contact and in a no real way to misunderstand... admitting he was....

Morse felt his legs give way slightly at the knees and in a rather more graceful drop than he might have expected given his current condition, he sat down on the side of his bed. He blindly lifted the tumbler of scotch to his mouth and took a sip. And then another.

Of course, that hadn't been the end of it. 

It had been inferred that Jakes was interested in someone.

He downed the last of the amber liquid but kept the smooth glass clasped in his hand, resting on his lap. 

And Jakes had agreed.

Well, he hadn't equivocally said yes, but his lack of that word, or any words for that matter in denying this, coupled with his visual reaction, left little doubt in Morse's mind as to the validity of this assumption. 

Jakes was queer. Big enough shock on it's own, but along with having to digest the one thing he would have been quite confident in saying would never happen, he also had to comprehend that on top of that, Jakes had feelings for another man. Someone they likely both knew. 

Someone likely to be down at the station.

He brought one hand up to rub across his face and groaned. 

_Bloody hell._


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morse starts his quest to find out who it is Jakes has a crush on. 
> 
> Sorry this has taken so long. Real life and work made themselves known and my muses took a dive. I'm not completely happy with it but hey ho. Again - not beta'd so please do let me know if you spot any mistakes.

Morse was on a quest. He set out the following morning with no other thought in his mind other than finding out who it was that Jakes' had a secret crush on. 

He wasn't entirely sure why finding out was so important to him, given that finding out would entail the destruction of his own carefully moulded fantasies. He also wasn't sure what he would do with the knowledge once he had it. He had no intentions of using it against Jakes, or god forbid telling anyone else and it wasn't as though he could actually help Jakes with his secret crush. There was a good chance that who ever it was didn't feel the same way. The conversation with Carl at the club had inferred that the other man was straight and therefore would not react well to an advance from another man. Morse might not be all that worldly but even he understood the likely outcome from such an advance.

But he was curious now and a curious Morse was an obsessed Morse. He wasn't known for backing down from a puzzle and this certainly fell into that category. Single minded and focused he was like a terrier with a bone or a bloodhound with the scent. Either way, he thought with a rueful smile, he liked a good mystery. It wasn't as though he had to do anything with the knowledge. It would be like a good crossword puzzle. The satisfaction alone from the finding the solution would be enough. Plus, Morse just didn't like not knowing. 

Hopping up the steps to the main door he made his way into the office, pleased to see he was the first there. Shrugging off his coat, he hung it up and proceeded to immerse himself in the witness reports he had piled up on his desk. If a small part of his brain was still working on his other problem, then it wasn't obvious from the outside then was it.

 

As far as Jakes was concerned it was business as usual when he arrived at the station the next morning. Morse was there already as normal. Sometimes he wondered if the other man actually ever went home. He certainly spent more time on the job than he seemed to off it. Then again, he thought ruefully, sometimes it felt that way to him. 

He hung up his coat on the stand and with a nodded 'hello' to Morse headed over to his own desk to check for the notes he'd been working on the day before. Nothing had come in about Dooley yet so it was back to the witness reports.

After a couple of minutes he flicked his eyes up in Morse's direction and was startled to see a pair of piercing blue eyes staring back at him. Morse, suddenly realising that he was looking back, blinked, threw a shaky half smile back at him and then buried his nose back in the papers he was reading.

Frowning, Jakes watched him for a few moments, before raising his eyebrows and looking away, mentally shrugging. 

Two hours later, Jakes gave up. He rose and stretched, stiff from sitting for so long. He glanced over at Morse, who hadn't said so much as a peep the whole morning. "Tea?" he enquired.

Morse looked up, confusion on his face for a moment before he nodded once. He pushed back his chair as if to get up, pausing when Jakes raised a hand and stepped out from behind his desk.

"Nah, I'll get 'em. Need to stretch otherwise I'm gonna seize up."

"Erm, okay," Morse stuttered slightly, lowering himself back into his chair and watching Jakes as if he had grown two heads.

"What? I can make tea you know," he said defensively.

"Okay," Morse nodded, face suddenly contrite. "Sorry, I was just...thank you."

Jakes frowned at him again before shaking his head and carrying on over towards the small kitchenette area. Five minutes later and he was back, two cups in hand. Carefully putting one on the corner of Morse's desk he carried on to his own and with a grateful sigh took a quick slurp. 

"Better," he said, more to himself than anyone else. 

"Cheers," he heard Morse say and then, "Oh, thanks." 

He smiled over at the surprised look on the other man's face when he spotted the rich tea finger balanced on the saucer. 

"Necessary sustenance," Jakes explained, with a grin. "Can't expect properly typed reports if you're running on empty." He nodded towards the typewriter with a wry grin. Morse rolled his eyes at the obvious rebuke but smiled too, reaching over to feed a blank piece of paper into the machine. 

Jakes knew it wasn't his imagination. All throughout the morning he could feel the prickle of eyes watching him. Of course since that first look, Jakes hadn't been able to catch Morse in the act again, but he'd felt the weight of that gaze pretty much the since the moment he'd sat back down with his cup of tea and Timmy Conrad's witness statement. 

Given his conversation with the barman at the club last night he might have been more concerned that he'd been overheard but he knew he'd been alone when he'd spoken to Carl. He'd checked. He hadn't got to where he was now by not being as paranoid as he was. Everyone else had already gone back to the cars. Morse, Thursday and Stevens the new man. Morse had been quiet for the rest of the night but that hadn't been unusual. He'd put it down to it being his first interview at a gay bar. It wasn't that he thought Morse was particularly sheltered, he'd been studying the classics at Oxford had he not, but it was always a bit of an eye opener your first time, even when you were that way inclined. If you weren't, well, he could only imagine. 

 

"Do you know much about Sgt Jakes?" Morse asked Strange, when they were in the pub that night.

"Jakes?" Strange asked from over the top of Moriarty's Police Law. "Not that much," he said, eyebrows raising slightly. "Why do you want to know?"

"Oh, just curious," Morse said quickly. "He, well, he strikes me as someone...well, let's just say, I thought one thing of him and then had to revaluate it. During a case," he added, forestalling any further questions from Strange that he wouldn't be able to answer. 

"Well," Strange started, picking up his pint and taking a mouthful, "you know he took the job from DS Lott, who as you know left under somewhat of a cloud, but to be honest for all that he socialises with the other guys at the station he doesn't really talk that much about himself. I think somebody said he has an older sister, lives in Banbury I think, but that's pretty much all I know. Other than he grew up in Oxford. And," he added, "that I wouldn't trust him as far as I could throw him. He strikes me as the sort that always looks out for number one. Slippery sort, you know. 

Morse hummed. "I don't know," he said. "There has to be some aspect of outwards motivation that made him become a copper."

"He made Sergeant pretty fast if you ask me ," Strange said. "Now, I wouldn't cast aspersions on anyone but you hear things on the grapevine from other stations."

Morse was well aware of the inter-station gossip chain. He'd been the subject matter of it a number of times himself. "Yes, well," he said with a grimace. "I wouldn't put much authority in gossip if I were you."

"They say no smoke without fire, but I suppose in this job you learn that smoke doesn't always mean the sort of fire you necessarily expect," Strange raised his eyebrows, then, "Why all this interest in Jakes all of a sudden."

"Oh, no reason," Morse said overly cheerful. "Just curious you know." He coughed, clearing his throat. "It's good to know the mettle of the man you work with." He picked up his pint and took a deep pull, ignoring the puzzled look that Strange cast him over the top of his own glass. 

 

"How long was it before DS Lott was replaced?" Morse asked over their lunchtime pint and Thursday's sandwich. "Sergeant Jakes was in post when I returned from my leave."

"Matter of a few days thankfully," Thursday said cheerfully. "Would have been difficult had we had to wait any longer. For some reason the criminal classes decided to go on a spree around that time and we were two hands down." He cast a look at Morse who deftly ignored the dig. He'd been due time off and he'd taken it. When he'd come back from leave Jakes had already seemed like he was part of the furniture. 

"How come it was so quick?" Morse asked, his voice and expression as blandly innocent as he could make it. He knew some positions could take a while to fill depending on circumstances. 

"Someone knew of a newly appointed Sergeant ready for a new post."

"Sergeant Jakes."

"Yes," Thursday threw him a look which Morse just deflected with his own look of 'what? Just asking a question,' and then proceeded to ask another.

"Did you know much about him?"

"Enough," Thursday replied after finishing his current mouthful. "He'd been brought on under Fowler, a respected DI from Farnham." He slid a sideways glance at Morse. "Why all the questions?"

"Oh, no reason," Morse said. "Just curious." He threw a cheerful smile at Thursday who gazed at his DC with a mixture of puzzlement and concern.

"Sergeant Jakes is a good man, Morse," he said." He might have a few sharp edges and he might not have your flare for the cryptic clues but he's a down to earth Detective with a good head on his shoulders."

Morse's expression turned serious and he ducked his head. "Of course." 

 

At the end of the week, Morse leant his head back against the cloakroom wall, eyes closing in defeat. He had tried all he could to find out more about the other man but despite being such an outwardly social and gregarious man, people knew surprisingly little about him and what they did know didn't really help him in finding out who Jakes might....well....like.

If he were attracted to anyone at the station he didn't give any outward signs or clues. Morse was slowly having to come to the conclusion that the person Jakes had eyes for must be someone from outside the station. Someone he had met down the pub or knew through friends. 

A noise startled him and instinctively he pushed himself further into the corner. He wasn't in the mood to make small talk with anyone. He should have left already. He'd already dropped Thursday back at home and returned the car but he'd spent another hour looking over the last know sightings of Dooley again and had come in to wash his face, his eyes feeling gritty and over worked. 

Eyes on the door he watched as Jakes came in with O'Reilly, one of the desk Sergeants. The two were chatting quietly. O'Reilly grinned at something and then with a quick grin, raised his hand in a gesture of goodbye and left. Jakes shot him a echoing grin before turning back to the sinks to wash his hands. Morse stayed silent, Jakes would be finished and out in few moments and then Morse could follow suit. 

After a quick swipe of his comb through his hair in the mirror above the basin he grabbed his coat from the hook. But before putting it on, Morse saw him pause. Draping it over his arm he reached into his inside pocket and took out his wallet. Poking his thumb into the folds he draw out what looked to be a small photo. As Morse watched Jakes stared at the photo, his thumb rubbing over it gently, almost reverently. 

Morse frowned. It was obvious that whoever was in that photo was someone that Jakes cared about. It could be family, a sister or mother, but another part of him thought with a increasing heart beat, that it could also be the object of Jakes' feelings. 

As he continued to watch, Jakes let out a quiet sigh and on hearing a noise out in the hallway, quickly tucked the photo back in his wallet before shrugging on his coat and walking out. 

Morse blinked and leant back forward, his back complaining from being twisted in a awkward position. He was slightly unsettled by having the objects of his thoughts suddenly appearing like that but as he was automatically pushing himself up to head towards the door, he noticed something on the floor. Bending down he picked it up and as he turned it over he realised with a shot of adrenalin that this was the photo that Jakes has been looking at. It must not have been put back into his wallet correctly in his hurry.

It took him a few moments to comprehend what his eyes was seeing but staring back at him was.....himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I pinched the biscuit with tea thing from someone else? But it just struck me as such a lovely thing to happen between them!


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, not beta'd so please excuse any typos/grammar (feel free to point out!). This was lurking on my hard drive for ages, but finally after watching last Sunday's Arcadia, it's given me the push to get the next chapter up.
> 
> I'm not particularly happy with the opening two paragraphs but I've been procrastinating over them for too long now. I may come back and edit later if I can find a better way of wording it but it driving me crazy so it's going as it is. >:[

Hidden - Chapter three

Seeing Morse sat at in his normal position at his desk when he came in made Jakes relax slightly. Morse was normally in before anyone else most mornings, sometimes including the cleaners and normal was something Jakes needed after the morning he'd had. 

Checking, as he always did, to make sure he'd got everything before heading out of his place earlier, he'd automatically leafed through his wallet to see how much cash he'd got in case he stopped off for a pint after work. He'd almost missed it but something had made him look for the small dog-eared corner that sometimes poked out when he was lucky enough to be flush.

With a horrified start he'd realised it had gone. That one small thing he'd allowed himself to keep. A part of him had known he'd been playing with fire keeping something like that in his wallet. Stupid really, but it was such a small thing and normally tucked very carefully behind the back fold that he'd thought it had been worth the risk. 

Taking a small breath he'd reminded himself that there was nothing on the small cut out photo that would identify him as the owner. Not if it had just fallen out somewhere in the street. Even if it had fallen out at the station there would be no way to track where it had come from. They'd just think it was one of the WPCs with a crush. 

He rolled his eyes at himself. 

It was just a picture cut out from the paper. Not the one from the opera case. No, that one held too may bad memories. Besides, Morse looked like a startled hare in that one, he grinned. No, this one was another case, smaller. Morse's friend at the paper had once again caught him with a well placed photograph as he and Thursday had been interviewing suspects at the crime scene. A well folded, slightly worn cut out from the paper but, a cut out none the less. They'd be no identifying marks if anyone picked it up. 

So by the time he'd walked into the station that morning, he'd been feeling okay. Disappointed that he'd lost it but relief that nothing worse had happened.

That relief had disappeared the moment he approached his desk and his eyes fell on the small brown envelope that was resting on the top. It had his name on it in small neat writing. Writing he realised after a moment, that he recognised. He frowned, quickly looked around as he sat down. Of course it could be something to do with the current case but something in his gut told him otherwise. It wasn't in the normal files folders they used and there was the use of his first name rather than his rank for a start. 

Casually picking it up in his right hand his eyes quickly flickered around the room. It was still early and there was only Morse and a couple of other DCs catching up on general duties. Self consciously scratching his nose he quietly slipped the fold out of the back and looked inside. 

His heart jumped as he realised what was inside. 

Startled, he automatically looked up, straight across to where Morse was sitting and met piercing blue eyes staring right back at him. For a moment he felt himself pinned in place, neither one of them able to look away. 

Panic gripped his entire body and he was unable to move, to blink, to twitch. Until suddenly he couldn't sit still. His chair squeaked loudly as it scraped back across the wooden floor and he shot to his feet. Still gripping it in his right hand he pushed away from the desk and strode across to the door. He ignored the strange look from Granger, stood by the door and headed out, down the corridor and towards the front door, his only thought, the intense need to just get out.

 

Morse had been completely knocked for six when he'd picked up that overly folded piece of paper from the floor, opened it up and found himself staring back. The delight in being able to finally find out who it was that Jakes had his eye on after days of blind alleys and dead ends had been utterly knocked out from him to be replaced by a confusion so profound, he'd couldn't quite remember ever experiencing one quite like it. 

Wandering back to his flat he'd spent an hour or so just staring at the picture, his brain trying to make sense of the fact that Jakes had a picture of him tucked away in his wallet. A picture of him that he'd looked at so fondly and with such affection and....well, he wasn't ready to put a name to that yet but whatever it was had made his stomach ball into a knot bit enough to prevent even a glass of his favourite scotch seem appetising. 

He wasn't sure what he was feeling. Which was stupid considering how he'd been feeling the past two weeks but somehow confronted with the proof which he'd been so certain would never exist he hadn't even contemplated it, he just couldn't seem to decide what emotion he needed to feel. 

Well, aside from shock of course.

The next morning has seen him get in early to the station. Inspector Thursday had been required elsewhere that morning and so did not require Morse to pick him up. He hadn't been sure what he was going to do until quite early that morning. But sitting down he'd picked up small envelope and quickly writing Peter's name on the front he'd slid the photo inside and making sure no one was about to walk in, had dropped it on the top of Jake's desk. He wasn't worried anyone else would open it, addressed to Jakes no one else would open it and besides, he'd be sat at his own desk keeping an eye on it. 

When Jakes strolled in, ever present fag dangling between his fingers, he couldn't help the slight start that twitched his body. All of a sudden he couldn't help the slight needle of doubt and panic that pinched his stomach. 

He watched out of the corner of his eye as Jakes paused by his desk before sitting down. As he picked up the envelope, Morse could feel dark eyes quickly scan the room. At the sound of the back fold being slid out Morse couldn't help but steal a look across. Jakes had only pulled out a small bit of the photo before realising what is was, his eyes going wide and startled. Too late to look away, Morse found himself pinned as the other man's head shot up to stare across at him, eyes locking with his. 

He couldn't look away. For what felt like hours but was most likely only mere moments they stared at one another, an unreadable expression on both their faces. Then the sharp shriek of the chair leg met Morse's ears and he watched as Jakes pushed abruptly to his feet, envelope in hand and strode quickly out of the office. 

Blinking he watched him go, saw the slightly bemused look of the two other DCs in the room. For a long moment he stayed seated, still in indecision, before pushing his own chair back, more softly, and grabbing his coat followed Jakes out the door. 

 

Jakes was quickly beginning to wish he'd brought his coat out with him. Although not freezing, it was cold enough to cut through both the shirt and jacket he had on. Plus, he'd forgotten his smokes. He found himself sat on the wall at the back of the boiler room. Not a well known spot surprisingly. He'd found it on his third day here, a bit of a retreat when things got too much and he'd been worrying about his performance in the job. Recently promoted to Sergeant he had a lot to prove and despite general opinion he'd worked hard to get where he was. But after several furtive visits over the first few weeks and then over the longer term he'd realised that no one else used the spot. Surprising since it was perfect. A nice quiet, sheltered spot, secluded from view from the rest of the buildings and on the opposite side from the road. A field at the back surround by a thick hedge meant no one from outside the station could see in, whilst the boiler house and the wall that surrounded it meant no one from in the station could see in. 

Which is why, five minutes later he was somewhat startled to find Morse staring at him from where he'd come around the corner. 

Or, given that it was Morse, maybe he shouldn't have been.

 

Morse cleared his throat nervously. Eyes shooting about the small nook as he both took in the area and fidgeted on the spot. 

"I didn't mean to...offend you," he started.

Jakes frowned. "Why would that offend me?" he asked, keeping his voice neutral. Give nothing away, his brain reminded him.

Morse stared at him again for a moment. "It was your picture was it not?"

"Technically yours not mine," Jakes countered with a smirk. God, he wished he had a fag in his hand. His fingers fidgeted where they were resting on his knees. 

Morse's lips twitched slightly before he schooled them straight again. Jakes felt his smirk relax slightly.

"I was in the locker room last night," Morse said quietly and Jakes felt his smirk disappear completely. Back straightening he braced himself. The adrenaline feeling of flight or fight starting to kick in.

"So?" he said, voice sounding harsh to his own ears.

"I saw...." Morse started then stopped, his blue eyes scanning Jakes intently. "I thought I saw you loose something that appeared to be of value to you." He looked down at his feet then, nerves suddenly getting the better of him. "I wanted to return it to you," he finished, voice going softer. "My duty."

There was silence for a few moments before Morse turned to leave. "I'll make some tea to get us going," he said, voice back to normal. "It's still cold out and, well best way to start the day don't you think."

Jakes was still staring at the space where Morse had disappeared around the corner of the edge of the building when Morse placed the cup of tea on Jakes desk.

 

By the time everyone else had left the building Morse was still sat at his desk. He was nose deep in typing up reports when he realised there was a shadow looming over his desk. His fingers paused mid strike, eyes looking up.

Jakes was stood, lighter in one hand, cigarette already balanced between his lips. Flicking his lighter casually between long fingers, he glanced down. 

"You coming for a pint?"

It wasn't unusual for Jakes to join Morse or Strange for a drink down the pub. He still drank with his other buddies but the past year had seen him share rounds with Thursday, Morse, Doctor DeBryn and Strange and so it wasn't an unusual question. Morse felt himself nodding his head before he'd really thought about it. 

"Sure." 

Putting his pencil down he indicated the typewriter. "I'll just...I'll finish this one and join you down there."

Jakes nodded, bringing up the lighter and touching the flame to the end. "Okay." 

 

Jakes and Stranger were in the middle of a mild argument over something in Frittons when Morse showed up. Jakes immediately got to his feet, one finger pointed at his pint glass in question. Morse nodded and shedding his coat sat down on the spare stool on the other side of the table whilst Jakes headed over to the bar. 

He took up the conversation with Strange but half his attention was on the figure stood a few feet away. Luckily Strange was too busy defending his point to notice that half of Morse's attention was elsewhere.

The pint was placed in front of him and he nodded his thanks, picking it up and taking a long grateful pull. His eyes met Jakes over the top of the glass and for a long moment they just stared. It was only when Strange slapped his hand down on the table top and they both jumped slightly that the connection was lost. 

"Well, mateys, I believe the next round after this is mine, so I vote we spend time on chapter ten and then after that I'm going to head off I'm afraid."

Morse nodded. "Fine. As we've got Sergeant Jakes here we should make good use of a sergeants knowledge." He smiled over at Jakes who grinned and inclined his head sagely. 

"Happy to, as long as I don't get accused of insider trading."

Morse chuckled. 

For the next half an hour they batted questions back and forth. Morse surprisingly found he was getting a large percentage correct. Maybe it was the influence of Jakes but his concentration and attention was better than usual and Jakes for his part was having fun both playing superior and at the same time retesting his own knowledge. 

Strange eventually drained his pint and announced that he was calling it a night. Morse nodded at Jakes glass a question in his eyes. 

"Sure," Jakes nodded in affirmation, mumbling through his cigarette. "Just one more though."

Morse stood at the bar, coins jingling in his hand nervously as he waited for his pints to be pulled. He probably should have heading out with Strange. It wasn't terribly late but it was a work night and for once they were would get a full night's kip. 

But for some reason he didn't want the night to end. Sat there with Jakes he felt like something had changed. Something good, something....indefinable. 

Jakes grinned when the pint was set down in front of him. "Cheers, mate," he said, tapping out his cigarette butt in the ash tray and picking it up. "Last one I think."

"Was just thinking the same thing myself," said Morse. "Cheers."

They talked about the current cases for the next twenty minutes. Morse had been surprised the first time he'd seen Jakes in professional mode. Most of his memories during the first six months he'd known the other man had contained sarcasm, dry wit and a very barbed tongue. It was only later on that he'd seen more of the whole man. The one behind the mirror that Morse had learned Jakes projected. Thursday had told him that Jakes was a good copper and he had no reason to doubt that. Jakes had made sergeant young and for good reason. 

Eventually the last of their beers were drained and they both met the other's eyes briefly. 

"Well, time to call it a night then," Jakes said with a light note to his voice. 

Morse nodded. He leaned over to grab his coat and together they both headed for the door. The change in temperature was a shock, the chill of late October making their breath mist gently in the night air. When they both turned to go to the right, Morse found himself falling into step with the other man. 

"I'm down on Victor Street," he found himself saying, for some reason feeling as though a reason was needed. 

Jakes turned his head. "You're not that far away from me then," he observed. "Not a bad part of town. Not too quiet but not too noisy either."

Morse nodded. "It is," he agreed. 

They walked together in comfortable silence until Morse's road came up. As they walked up to the door, Morse ground to a halt, Jakes stopping next to him. 

"Um, this is me," Morse said, slightly awkwardly. He thrust his hands in his coat pocket and glanced up at the door before looking back at Jakes with a smile. "So.....," he looked down at his shoes before suddenly looking up again, "...do you want to come up for a coffee...or tea? Or whisky?"

Heart in his throat, he tried not to show how nervous he was as he watched Jakes expression go from neutral to shocked to wary to hopeful all in the space of about two seconds. 

"Yeah," Jakes said after a moment a small smile touching his lips. "Actually, that would be nice." 

"Come on then," Morse said, digging in his pocket for his keys and sliding them into the lock. 

Jakes followed him up the narrow stairs. On the top floor landing, where Morse's flat was, the floor sloped. Morse knowing it did, compensated unconsciously, as he did every time he walked up to his front door. Jakes, not knowing it did, put his foot down from the top step and immediately lurched to the side when his second foot didn't land where his brain told him it would. 

Morse found himself suddenly pushed to the side as Jakes' weight abruptly fell into him. The keys fell out of his hand as his shoulder and back hit the door frame. 

"Oh God, I'm sorry," Jakes mumbling from somewhere in Morse's collar. One hand struggled to brace himself against the wall as he tried to right himself. 

Morse froze as his mind suddenly went blank, the feeling of Jakes solid weight against him had sent all coherent thoughts out of his head. His breath caught in his throat, all his senses focusing in on the weight, the warmth, the smell now pressed up close.

As Jakes pushed back from the wall carefully, he found himself mesmerised by vivid blue eyes staring at him from inches away. Morse hadn't blinked, his gaze watching Jakes with an intensity that Jakes could feel down to his toes. His movement paused as he stared back, upper body now pulled back slightly, their lower bodies still flush.

When Morse's eyes flickered downwards for a brief moment, Jakes felt his resolve give and with his hands still braced on the wall either side of Morse, brought his mouth down to press against the other man's. 

Morse's eyes closed as he felt Jakes lips connect to his own. It was chase at first, nervous, sweet, tender. Lips so soft and actions so gentle, Morse was too startled to do more than stand there at first, but as his brain finally caught up he began to tentatively kiss back. He felt as well as heard the groan from Jakes. Feeling more confident and reacting to the electricity now coursing through his blood he pushed back. Arching his body upwards he opened his mouth and felt Jakes angle their heads as the kiss suddenly got deep and dirty. Bringing his hands up he placed them on the side of Jakes head, fingers ruffling the normally perfectly coiffed hair as their tongues duelled, both riding high on the passion being generated between them. 

Jakes moaned again, his own hands leaving the wall to slide down Morse's side, one pressed against his waist, the other moving up under Morse's coat and around his back, pulling him closer. Breaking away from his mouth, Jakes trailed his mouth down Morse's jaw line and down to his throat. Morse felt lips, tongue and then teeth gently nip the sensitive skin causing a shiver to run through him. 

One of Jakes' hand came up to cup the side of his face as be brought his lips back to Morse's, passion and urgency evident in every move. Morse matched him move for move until he felt the other man slow. Jakes pulled back, only enough to break the kiss, but not their connection. Lips still brushed his in small swipes, breath coming in short but laboured pants. Morse's hands still bracketed Jakes face, blue eyes gazed intently at him as they struggled to part for more than a brief moment, pulled together as soon as they parted. 

Jakes ran his fingers through the burnished curls on Morse's head. "Oh God," he whispered desperately. "Jesus..."

"Peter...." Morse licked into Jakes mouth again, desperate to feel those wonderful lips, enticing the other man's tongue with small teasing nips and playful licks. 

Jakes hand shook as it caressed Morse's temple, fingers trailing down the side of the other man's head. He allowed Morse's advances, mouth opening under the ardent assault, eyes falling shut again as their tongues gently tangled in a slow, intimate dance. 

He pulled back again after more long moments had passed. 

"I need to....." He swallowed heavily, his breathing harsh and laboured. Pushing back further he detangled them further until only their hands were grasped. "I should go...."

"Do you want to....," Morse started, but Jakes nodded quickly. He ducked his head, fingers clutching Morse's tightly. 

"If I stay...if....." He swallowed again, taking a deep breath. "I don't want this to be a mistake," he finished, fear evident in his voice.

"It's not," Morse said.

Jakes smiled, expression open and tender and the softest Morse had ever seen it. "Good," he whispered. His face went serious again."This is..." he lost the words, unable to find the right language to describe the enormity of what they were doing. "I don't want to mess this up, okay?"

Morse nodded slowly. "Okay."

Pushing completely back, Jakes ran a hand quickly through his hair, pulling his coat straight. 

"I'll see you down the station in the morning." 

Morse nodded again, echoing another gentler, "okay." 

"Night, Morse," Jakes said, a softness in his tone. 

"Goodnight." As Jakes turned to carefully navigate his back downstairs, Morse smiled. Looking back once, Jakes returned it with one of his own before turning back and disappearing into the gloom of the stairwell. 

Morse listened until the sound of his retreating footsteps had disappeared before bending down to pick up his keys and letting himself into his flat. 

Tbc.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have the start of chapter four on the go. I must confess I wasn't going to post any more to this story until I had a fair few more chapters typed up as I'm conscious of sporadic updates but I need to post after last night's episode. I'm hoping to keep going but again, I can't promise. I have more energy than I've had for months but who knows if it'll last.


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for homophobic behaviour from original characters.

Hidden Chapter 4

 

Stepping into the station the next day Morse was unsure as to how it would be. All night he'd been unable to settle. Tempted to find answers in his bottle of scotch, he resisted and instead he'd slipped into bed, lying there for hours with thoughts and memories flooding through his mind.

 

He wasn't a prude but he'd never been one to give in to the demands of his body. Not often anyway. However, that night he'd not been able to resist sliding a hand down between his legs, relieving the ache that had been there since Jakes has left. Grasping himself, it hadn't taken long to reach conclusion and he couldn't deny which name had been on his lips as he came.

 

He still couldn't wrap his head around it and it was only when he was on the bus on the way in the next morning and he'd caught the third person staring at him that he realised he was wearing a ridiculous grin. At first he'd thought he'd spilt something down him and had spent an embarrassing number of minutes checking both his shirt and tie before he'd eventually realised that it was his expression that people were noticing. Immediately, he'd schooled his face into a more staid expression benefiting that of a police man. Not a man who had realised, that a dream he hadn't even realised he'd had, had started to come true.

 

It was difficult though. Throughout the rest of the journey he kept finding the corners of his mouth twitching up at the corners. He even found himself wanting to hum. Stepping off the bus he rolled his eyes at himself.

 

The minute he walked through the door to the station though, he'd felt a weight of reality drop down on his shoulders that he couldn't shake. The further he walked inside the heavier it got. By the time he'd got to his desk, he'd all but disappeared under a black cloud. Sitting at his desk he quickly glanced over at Jakes' empty desk before grabbing the next report to be typed up from the pile next to his typewriter.

 

 

Unknown to Morse, Jakes had had a pretty similar night. Part of him had not been able to believe that he'd actually kissed Morse. Not only kissed him but Morse had kissed him back. Fervently. He'd walked home in a complete daze. It was lucky it'd been late and there'd been no traffic as he'd been completely unable to concentrate on much around him.

 

By the time he had got back to his place, he'd all but convinced himself it was a dream. It was only the fact that his hair was still ruffled, his hair product making it stick up awkwardly in a few places, refusing to lie back down, that allowed him to believe it had happened.

 

Closing the door behind him, he'd sunk back against it, eyes closing as he allowed himself to replay what had happened. He hitched in a breath and let it out slowly, trying to control his feelings. Running one hand gently over his lips he remembered the feeling, letting it wash over him. That feeling had stayed with him all night.

 

However, in the morning, he'd found himself struggling to keep that good feeling. Part of him was still riding high on the ecstasy but another part of him was starting to contemplate the dawning reality of what they'd done.

 

 

As soon as their eyes met over the office it was like a jolt of electricity arched between them. Morse's eyes went wide and after a slight pause, he jerked his head back down, blinking rapidly. Jakes himself managed to make it over to his desk with only one trip of his feet, but that was more luck than judgement.

 

"Morning," Jakes said, clearing his throat.

 

Morse looked up. "Morning. Um...Inspector Thursday is in and he asked to see you. Something about the Arnold Lane case."

 

"Okay, thanks," Jakes replied, nodding, head down. After a moment their eyes gravitated to each other again and they shared a silent smile, before both quickly looked away.

 

"Do you want a cuppa?" Morse asked. "Thursday asked me to bring him one in when I was finished with this."

 

"Yeah, that'd be nice, cheers." Jakes grinned. "Better go give the latest."

 

Morse nodded and turned to watch briefly as Jakes chucked his coat over the back of his chair and heading to Thursday's office, knocking briefly on the door before heading inside.

 

Morse pulled the sheet out of his typewriter and placing it in it's folder, quietly got up and headed over to the kitchen.

 

Five minutes later, two teas balanced in his hands he returned and popping one down on the nearby shelf, knocked on the glass. Seeing Thursday's hand beckoning him in, he popped the handle and picking up the tea walked in.

 

He placed them both on Thursday's desk and went to head back out.

 

"No, Morse, you stay here for a moment. I was going to come and get you anyway." Thursday sounded chipper but for some reason, Morse's radar was pinging slightly. He looked at the Inspector before risking a quick glance at Jakes who was stood to the side. Jakes' expression gave nothing away.

 

"We've had a lead on the Dooley case. Apparently he's been spotted down at the Chelsea Club. Got a couple of witnesses coming in to make a statement. You and Jakes can take them."

 

Morse shot Jakes another quick look before straightening his back. "Yes, Sir."

 

"Shouldn't take long," Thursday said, pushing tobacco into the head of his pipe. "Chief Superintendent Bright wants a prompt closure to this case if possible."

 

"Sir." Jakes nodded and turned to head out the door.

 

"Don't forget your tea," Thursday reminded him with a smile. "Not after Morse went to the effort of brewing  it." He winked at Morse.

 

"Ah, wouldn't think of it," Jakes said with a smile, carefully sweeping the cup off the corner of the desk. "Cheers, Morse."

 

Morse nodded in acknowledgment.

 

Exciting Thursday's office they headed back over to their desks in silence.

 

"Right," said Jakes, after a long moment. "Go get the paperwork and I'll check on when the witness are due to arrive. We'll set up in the end room."

 

Morse nodded. "I'll go book it ready," he said grabbing the statement paperwork and a pen, belatedly checking to make sure it had ink in it.

 

Nodding again, Jakes headed out of the room, head down in purpose. Morse looked after him for a long moment before heading towards the interview room diary.

 

 

Five minutes later Jakes walked back in. The subtle red tinge to his face made Morse's forehead furrow slightly. Meeting the question in his expression, Jakes just shook his head minutely and carried on to his desk.

 

The muffled laughter that he heard from the end of the far room made the frown deepen, especially when he saw Jakes duck his head even further, taking an inordinate amount of time searching for something from his desk draw.

 

It wasn't until the two DCs entered their end of the office that Morse heard what was amusing them so much.

 

"Did you see 'em?" one of them sniggered. Morse recognised him as Hall. The shorter one next to him, Parker, Morse's brain supplied him, smirked as he flicked his cigarette into the tray on the end of the counter.

 

"Bloody fairies," he said quietly, apparently aware of where they were despite their attitude. "We're supposed to take their word for it. Can't trust what they say."

 

"Mockery is what it is," Hall replied.

 

Morse glanced over at Jakes again and noted the tightly clenched jaw. At one time he might have expected Jakes to have joined in, in the early days before he had got to know the man. Before Jakes himself had mellowed and lost some of his more thorny exterior. Before they'd spent the previous night exploring each other's mouths.

 

Jakes eventually pulled out a pen from his draw and closed it. If it slammed a bit more than usual, no one else noticed. Standing up he gestured at Morse. "Ready?"

 

Morse nodded.

 

They walked past Hall and his companion. Getting past without comment was quite unlikely so Morse wasn't at all surprised to hear Hall mutter under his breath, "Watch your back, Morse," as they passed.

 

 

 

Morse followed Jakes into the end interview room. Jakes dropped his own notebook and pen on the far side of the table before looking at his watch and gesturing to the door. "Carl and Lee should be down at the front desk by now. Go and bring them up will you."

 

Morse nodded and placing the paperwork on the table by Jakes, turned to head back out.

 

Approaching the front desk, he knew who he was looking for, Carl was the name of the head barman at the Chelsea. They'd not met, Morse had been involved in interviews elsewhere the night they'd gone down there on the tip off, but as soon as Morse stepped around the corner he recognised the tall man that Jakes had been talking to in the alleyway. He couldn't help the slight hesitation in his step. He corrected the falter almost immediately, but meeting the other man's eyes he could see recognition light in them and he took a silent breath before walking over to extend a hand in greeting.

 

"Carl Peters?"

 

"That's me." Carl stood up and grinned at Morse, taking his hand in a firm handshake. "This is Lee Richards."

 

"Mr Richards," Morse greeted the other man. "Please, won't you both follow me through here." Leading the way he walked them both back down to where Jakes was waiting. As he held open the door, he asked, "Would either of you like a tea?"

 

"Oh, you are a star!" Carl smiled widely. "I am gasping."

 

Morse smiled and at a nod from the quieter Mr Richards, headed back out to make his second round of teas that morning.

 

"Carl," Jakes nodded in greeting from the other side of the table. He'd stood in greeting and after a quick round of handshakes, all three had taken a seat.

 

Jakes watched Carl closely for a moment, before Carl grinned suddenly and leaned over conspiratorially. "It's okay, love, Lee here knows all about it. Won't breath a word."

 

Jakes started, chair screeching back slightly. "You what...?" he ground out low and harsh.

 

"He, no, it's okay," Carl started, hands going out in pacification. "No, I had to, he caught me coming back in after we spoke that night. I had to explain."

 

"I'm not going to say anything," the other man cut in softly. "Carl told me but that's only because he knows he can trust me. I've been there. I'm not interested in outing anyone."

 

Jakes looked hard at the smaller man, exploring his eyes carefully. After a moment he sat back, face relaxing minutely.

 

"Good," he said eventually. "Make sure it stays that way." He didn't say the 'please'. Wouldn't be right coming from his mouth, not in this situation, but he knew he was broadcasting it anyway. He looked over a Carl again and saw honesty in the man's light brown eyes and the small almost unperceivable nod.

 

There was a moment's silence before something twitched in Carl's face. Jakes noticed and reading the change in the air braced himself with a resigned roll of his eyes.

 

Carl full on grinned.

 

"Is that him then?" He asked in a barely contained whisper, cocking a thumb towards the door where Morse had disappeared.

 

Lee turned, horrified expression to jab him with an elbow. "You can't ask that you wanker!" he hissed.

 

"Oh shush," Carl waved him off.  He waggled his eyebrows at Jakes. "I saw him in the alleyway after you left that night we spoke, you know."

 

Jakes expression of stony mute was replaced instantly by a frown. "He was?" he asked, in a voice that forgot to be in surly.

 

"Yep," Carl was nodding. "Hiding behind a drainpipe. Well, not actually hiding behind because that would be impossible." He paused, raising his eyebrows in thoughtfulness. "Although given the size of him, what, 120lbs soaking wet?"

 

Jakes shook his head briefly, leaning forward. "He was watching us?"

 

Carl nodded. "And the fact that he was and we're still here talking, with you that side of the table and me this side, means that I was right."

 

"You were..?" Jakes eyebrows had lifted. Hhe could practically see the questions marks floating in the air around his head.

 

"I saw in his face," Carl replied, his voice dropping in both tone and volume, taking on a serious edge that Jakes had momentary trouble keeping up with. "I got worried when I saw him, almost came after you, was trying to think of a way to contact you to warn you, but then I looked. Really looked. In his eyes."

 

Jakes breathed out a silent sigh, nostrils flaring slightly. _'What did you see?'_ practically screamed from his own.

 

"Conflicted? Definitely. Shocked? Most certainly. Disgusted? No." He shook his head. "No, there was more going on behind those eyes and I knew."

 

"You guessed," Jakes interrupted with a small head shake.

 

"I knew," Carl repeated, head cocking to one side in a knowing look.

 

Jakes took in another deep breath, fingers flicking the hook on the end of his pen rhythmically.

 

Carl opened his mouth to say something. The door opened and all three started in their seats. Morse, carrying a tray and straightening up from where he'd leant down to push the handle open with his elbow, looked over at them curiously, eyebrows furrowing in that way that normally made Jakes smile. Privately of course.

 

"Tea," he announced simply, placing the tray with four cups on in, in the centre of the table. A small cup of sugar had been plopped on the end with a teaspoon stuck in the white granules and a mismatching small jug of milk sat next to it. Morse knew how he and Jakes liked their tea from hours of practise but he'd forgotten to ask how their witnesses took theirs before he'd left so he'd had to bring them in with him. He waved at the jug and cup with a hand that said 'dig in' and took a seat next to Jakes.

 

For the next fifteen minutes the interview went as normal. Both Carl and Lee told them what they had seen, both on the night of the original incident and the evening where Mack Dooley had reappeared. Although having taken statements at the time, there were several additional points that came up when re-examined and from the two men talking at the same time and reminding themselves of small snippets that they had both forgotten. With that and the new information they had from his most recent reappearance both Jakes and Morse knew they had more than enough to take the case a lot further than they had before.

 

Thanks were given, handshakes exchanged again and all four stood to leave the room. Morse offered to show them back out of the station but when Lee moved towards the door to leave, Jakes grabbed his notebook and pen and walked around the desk.

 

"No, Morse, you stay here and clear up. Get started on those leads. I'll show Mr Peters and Mr Richards out."

 

Looking slightly puzzled but not too bothered, Morse nodded and turned back to grab the tray after sliding his own notebook under his arm.

 

"This way gentlemen," Jakes gestured.

 

Back at the front desk, Jakes walked out the front door into the fresh air and with a surreptitious glance around pulled Carl to one side.

 

"What did you see?"

 

Carl didn't need to ask what he meant as they returned to the interrupted conversation of earlier. They barely noticed as Lee continued walking out across the yard and towards the road.

 

"Curiosity. Disbelief. Hope."

 

"All that from one look?" Jakes scoffed slightly.

 

"I had time to think about it. Wondered if I did right by not trying to contact you. Worried me for nights. But I was right, wasn't I?" He shook his head. "I'm not going to ask any questions you'd rather not answer, but what I saw. I was correct, wasn't I?"

 

Jakes found himself nodding before he'd made a conscious decision to.

 

"Yes."

 

"You lucky boy" Carl grinned widely, white teeth gleaming. "You know how unlikely that is, right?"

 

"Go," Jakes pointed, cigarette suddenly appearing in his left hand and waving like a baton. The twitch to his lips took the sting out.

 

Carl held his hands up. "I'm going, I'm going." He turned and took a few steps before looking back. "You'll keep me informed? About both cases?"

 

Jakes shook his head, but the look in his eyes told Carl the answer was yes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, unbeta'd so please let me know if you find any mistakes.


End file.
